


The King of Flames

by deadxxxmoon



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Classics, Drama, Elf Culture & Customs, Elf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Fantasy, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), High Fantasy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27889792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadxxxmoon/pseuds/deadxxxmoon
Summary: After relinquishing his Silmarils to the Two Trees and Yavanna, Fëanor had returned from Mandos to Arda Remade. Swarmed with past haunts and wounds, he was in need of a personal healer.Khánh, a mortal woman and friend of the wisewoman Andreth, had grown bored of her current work with herbal lore in a small children's school and wanted expand her career.
Relationships: Feanor x OC, Jane Eyre/Edward Rochester, elf and human relationship, elves and human, elves and human relationship, feanor - Relationship, male elf and female human
Comments: 39
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

** Prologue **

_Author’s note: This work is inspired by Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. All characters and inspiration belong to J.R.R Tolkien and Charlotte Bronte except for my heroine, Khánh._

oOo

“Curufinwë Fëanáro. Step forth towards the Valar.”

The deep and resonating voice spoke so soft and yet, he felt as if all of Arda had heard and witnessed this very tremulous moment. The iron cuffs that weighed one-hundred stones magically had unlocked itself from his wrists and ankles. They fell to the stone floor making an echo thud of a noise. The heavy chains that both literally and figuratively bounded him to the lonely and cold prison cell in the Halls of Námo isolating his fëa from the rest of the other spirits had disappeared.

He looked down at his body. While he was just a fëa right now, he still had his old physical form. The wounds that Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, inflicted upon his death was still apparent. His prior bound wrists and ankles had scars and cuts all over. Lastly, he was naked. A full-length, mirror glass floated from the sky to appear in front of him. Perhaps this was another humiliation tactic from the Valar to drive the message home on how far Curufinwë Fëanáro, son of Finwë, had fallen from grace and honor.  
He looked at himself through the glass. His once athletic and toned physique was marred by black injuries, bruises and dirt. His long, dark hair was a mass of snarls and tangles on his head. His face, which once was so admired by all inhabitants in Valinor and Ennor for its beauty, was now a shadow of its former glory. Fëanor ran a hand down a slit that crossed over his right eye and the blister that would not heal at the corner of his lower lip. He then moved on to his hands and fingers; they were long but broad – Full of calluses from wielding weaponry and performing countless forgery that were considered masterpieces.   
He observed wryly that his more private parts were tragically limp and damaged as well.

Once, he was so full of pride and hubris. Now, feelings of vulnerability were both a constant friend and nemesis.

One of the servants of Námo came over and prudently draped a modest robe around his nude body. As he carefully felt the soft material of the fabric, he saw something so bright come from the sky, it would have blinded mortal eyes. As the bright light came closer gradually, Fëanor was able to make out a beautifully made ship carved out of wood. From that ship, a man of remarkable fairness and golden hair jumped down from the edge of the deck to march his way. On his brows was the source of light. Fëanor recognized what it was immediately for the sight of the light awakened feelings of possessiveness, adoration, rage and sorrow all at once within his breast. If one looked closely and could see beyond the gleam of white light, multiple facets of glimmering crystal glass glared back at one blindingly. Its stunning features was what made it a Silmaril jewel and the work only intricately crafted by Fëanáro’s hands and hammer.   
And now, that Silmaril jewel Fëanor had fought tooth and nail to the death and caused so much tragedy to those around him had become the old and new Arda’s most brilliant star – Their sign of hope.

This half-elven man that stood before him now, Fëanor assumed was Eärendil; The one who became one with his precious crystal to become said star.

Eärendil’s stance was all regal robes, proud bearing and stoicism. He brought both hands to his head to take off the crown that held the Silmaril. Gently unscrewing the gem off its hold as the main pendant, the half-elven gave the Silmaril to Fëanor.   
With the jewel back in his hands, Fëanor grasped it waiting for the relief he sought of having his dearly loved ornaments back. It never came. To his astonishment and disturbance, all he felt was a hollowness he could not describe.

His two other Silmarils floated down in front of his absorbing, grey eyes.

“Now,” Eärendil intoned. “You shall be led back to Valinor where the two trees had been destroyed. With the help of Lady Yavanna and the rest of the Valar, you will help use the Silmarils you have created with your own love and hands to give life back to the Two Trees. Laurelin and Telperion shall shine again but more radiantly this time.”

How easy it was for them - The Valar and all who carried their caprices to this day, still demand and dictate his existence with his own creations. Except this time, with everything that had occurred remarkably throughout history thanks to his aggressive pursuit of his Silmarils, Fëanor doubted any dispute he gave would be tolerated.

The prison walls around him disintegrated to reveal each of the Valar standing in a circle, staring down at him in their big and mighty forms. One figure slowly went up to him. It was a graceful, lush, female figure dressed in a green gown that had vines and all assortments of fruits and herbs woven to her dress. Her face was exquisite and her long, red hair framed around her like a glorious waterfall. For a second there, Fëanor thought his wife had returned to him.

But she was not Nerdanel. Nerdanel had not been the most beautiful of the Firstborns and her figure had been wide and sturdy; not tapered but curvaceous like this woman a few inches away from him.

“My lady Yavanna, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He swept a mocking bow, already knowing the answer.

The Vala maiden gave no sign of acknowledging his sardonic and blasphemous attitude. Instead, she reacted in the worst way possible; She smiled at him kindly. Surprisingly, Fëanor did not flinch when Yavanna crouched down to take both of his hands and deposited a gentle kiss on his freezing, white knuckles.

“My dear Fëanor, you have long suffered have you not? For all your past, evil actions against your own kind and kin, you were the one most in agony.”

He scowled. “With all due respect, my lady. I do not welcome your pity.”

The goddess of growth and fertility was not deterred.

“Dear Fëanor,” Her voice changed to a lower resonance. “Won’t thou help Laurelin and Telperion shine most brilliant and beautiful vast over not just Valinor but for all of Arda Reborn yet again?”

Fëanor contemplated her closely. She did not seem to mind his impertinent scrutiny. Next, he looked at all the Valar and Maiar surrounding him. His environment was now not the cold, grey halls of Námo, but the blindingly big and white rooms that could only belong to the abode of Manwë and Varda. Those two sat on their crystal thrones gazing down at him with opaque expressions. Varda’s hair encompassed the entire sky with little beads of stars twinkling everywhere above him.

So, it came to this. The end of the World and Arda was to be remade. Where all of the Eldar, Naugrim, men and creatures alike were free from their prior fates after death to be rejoined again in the new World.   
He stared at the burning Silmarils in his palms. All his years of dedication and hard work in creating them; His long rage and vengeance just to get them back from the dark forces and then eventually, became the evil himself in the name of material possession.

But by giving the Silmarils to Yavanna, not only would Fëanor be free from this curse, he would be helping create the ultimate masterpiece in history – Reforming the two sacred trees to light up the Arda that it should have been before Melkor’s undoing.

The final decision was not that difficult. Finally, Fëanor said:

“For Arda and all of Eru Ilúvatar’s children’s sake, I shall use the Silmarils I have lovingly and meticulously forged and return its light to relive Laurelin and Telperion.”

oOo

_Where were his sons?_

_Where was Nerdanel?_

Ugly emotions Fëanor tried to bottle down for thousands of years he came to realize as guilt and misery.

“Atar!” A familiar voice called, jogging in his direction. Fëanor was walking around the massive land of Arda Remade where the elves were all beginning to arrive from the West and the afterlife.   
It was Turcafinwë. His third son’s light head of hair could be seen anywhere amongst his brothers. Once the obnoxious and hasty riser of the siblings, Turcafinwë now had a leaner and more seasoned look about him. On his handsome face was relief and joy.

“We are glad to have you returned then?” He inquired.

Without saying anything, Fëanor took hold of his third son and pulled him into a crushing embrace. Shocked and embarrassed, he hugged him back cumbersomely. Awkward as the reunion was, it was clear he loved his father. Any pain of the past mattered not in the end.

“Tis a long story,” Fëanor began quietly although he had other matters to discuss first and foremost.   
“Where are your brothers? Your mother?”

Turcafinwë nodded, letting go of him. “Let us go. There is much we need to talk about, atar.”

As father and son walked down the hillside, Fëanor noticed the tremendous and miraculous changes of the new Earth they now resided in. The trees, grass and leaves were richer in color whether it be green, red, orange or yellow. Flowers and fruits bloomed generously wherever they went. The skies were crisp and clear; any clouds present were sheer, white and seemed to exist for ornamental purposes rather than to create any kind of precipitation. Most of all, however, was the pure beauty of the ocean and large lakes. The blue and depth of the waters had no limits. Fëanor wondered if winter or autumn still existed depending on the region. He made note to research and explore this at a later date. His hunger for knowledge that led him to adventure in the sketchiest and repulsive places had not waned with time one bit.

Eru had granted the Edain human rights for settlements before the elves. Already, cities and villages had been built. The architecture and craftmanship level left much to be desired by Eldar standards, but it was much improvement from the old Arda.

As Fëanor soaked in his new surroundings and environment, Turcafinwë relayed to him where each of the Noldor, Vanyar and the large Teleri (consisting of Silvan and Avari) settlements and cities were. He informed what happened to each of his sons, their quests thanks to his terrible oath and how they have slowly but surely healed and starting over their lives in Arda Reborn. They all resided in this world’s version of Formenos and that Fëanor would live with them. The brothers had joined hands to build a big mansion together for all of them to live in.

Fëanor, however, did not plan to live with them in the same building. With his current state, he did not feel he deserved to stay under the same roof with any of his family just yet and did not want to disrupt the peace. He had his own penance to do and will worry about his own lodging later.

“What of your Amil?” Fëanor asked after a while. “How is she?”

At that, Turcafinwë grew silent.

“She is still staying with grandfather Mahtan, atar,” He finally said; his face angry. “Amil insisted that while she will stay with us for her children’s sakes, she has no intentions of reconciling with you. Even so, she refuses to officially sever the marriage because it is against Eldar customs.”

Fëanor felt bleak at the information, but he was not surprised. Nerdanel had always worshipped and revered the Valar while he, just the complete contrary. Their marriage was always one laced with both love and severe friction. After the final straw of Fëanor and his continuous blasphemy against the Valar as well as the swore of his oath, the two had been irreparably estranged. Nerdanel’s finality had been a huge blow to his spirit. Still, he noted drolly that his wife’s adherence to traditional Elven values had not changed one ounce. He still loved her, of course. For all his defiance against the conventional, he was still an elf born in the old Valinor so his love and bond for Nerdanel would forever be eternal.

He deliberately ignored how the so-called love he just thought of had begun to dwindle in his heart after years of separation and differences in personality and values.

oOo

_Translation and Names_

_Fëanáro = Fëanor_

_Turcafinwë = Celegorm_

_Eldar = Elves_

_Naugrim = Dwarves_

_Edain = Mortals_

_Atar = Father_

_Amil = Mother_

  
  



	2. Chapter 1

** Chapter 1 **

_(At a banquet in Imladris in Arda Remade)_

“Hic!”

Andreth coughed out her hiccup and threw her head back unleashing an unrestrained guffaw. She took another ravenous drink of the strong wine that was mistakenly offered to her just about fifteen minutes ago.

“How nice it is to be free from social propriety for once and just take a reprieve. I am having a very fine time. Yes, I am,” She took another chug of the liquor.

“Anyone – hic – offended by my behavior can – hic – very well sod off!” She crowed and laughed loudly with abandon.

The infamous ringbearer, Frodo Baggins and his uncle, Bilbo Baggins looked at the group of mortal women from across their table with blatant amusement. They each had jugs of ale of their own, but unlike the completely foxed Andreth, the two hobbits were mostly sober.   
Bilbo looked a tad bit peeved for having his story of the time he was granted the journey to the West with his nephew interrupted.

“I high doubt anyone would do anything even if they were offended,” Haleth, the former chieftain of the Haladin, said dryly.   
“They are either too occupied having a party themselves or you are just too much of a frightening drunk.”

Indeed, for it was extremely rare to see the cold, self-possessed wisewoman Andreth Saelind be anything other than composed and reserved.

Khánh watched the woman from her seat; her wine left untouched. All of Arda Remade were in celebration right now. Whilst the world ended and recreated, only the elven kind left back in Valinor and Mandos’ Halls had to personally rejoin their mortal brothers and sisters (humans, dwarves and hobbits) in the new world.   
The Eldar race finally arriving to Arda Remade’s shores in their regal ships and beautiful Firstborn glory was what sparked the excitement and celebrations all over the land.

Here in this world’s version of Imladris or Rivendell, people were rejoicing over Lord Elrond, his twin sons and his wife, Celebrían’s reunion with their beloved daughter, Arwen Undomíel. 

Andreth, who was a wisewoman, scholar, philosopher and recorder of history in her past life did pretty much the same thing in this life in her little library in this world’s Gondor.

For Haleth, while in a perfect world with no danger or enemies anymore, had no purpose or need to play the role of leader for her people no longer. Still, her family and tribe continued to uphold her as their much beloved chieftain.   
She spent most of her time helping the Rohirrim and some of the Telerin warriors make arrows for their group of archers. On other days, she hunted game in the woods.

As for Khánh herself, being of Asiatic descent from the South in this part of the world where no one really looked like her was difficult in the old Middle Earth as well as the new one only to a lesser degree. Racism and discrimination did not just exist between species but between the Secondborn too unfortunately.  
Nevertheless, in Khánh’s past life, she made it as a moderately respected herbalist in Minas Tirith in the fourth age.   
Here in Arda Remade, she was one of the teachers teaching herbal lore and medicine in a school for young girls who wished to become either healers or get into the soap and cosmetology trade.

Her institute called, Woodcreek School, was right next to Andreth’s library. When Khánh had free time, she learned a lot from Andreth.   
She learned about all of the significant events in Middle Earth’s history, the War of the Ring, the distinctive Elven Kings, the marring by Melkor and Sauron, the Númenórean line and their downfall.   
She was taught about Eru, the Valar the Ainulindalë. Most of all, she learned about the Fell Princes that drove forward many of the First Age’s tragedies and events that led to the present moment. For the first time, mortals were able to witness and experience the unspeakable brilliance of Laurelin and Telperion.   
They no longer had the sun like the did back in the old Arda which paled by far in comparison to the light she got to experienced daily here.

The light was too great. The figure who was able to capture the power of the Two Trees to create mere gems out of them that caused so much catastrophe was simply an impossible force to be reckoned with. What she learned about the infamous Noldor High Prince Fëanor was vague, but it told her enough that she was grateful to have never and would never have to encounter him.

Often times, Khánh found herself agreeing with Andreth on many aspects of the Valar, Eldar and Men. The two women had a secret, shared comradery of bitterness towards any race that were deemed superior and immortal over mankind.

The more Khánh learned about the Valar, elves and men, she saw the apparent favoritism bestowed on the fairer race and the injustice with anyone else; Not just with men but also with dwarves.   
The Firstborn had it all – skills, immortality, strength, years to hone their intellect and beauty. To add insult to injury, they had the opportunities to learn and train with the Valar to become legends in texts, lore and songs.

What did men have? Well for the most part, Khánh learned that they had doom, mediocrity with few exceptions and the curse of a mortal fate.

Andreth was often chilly and distant. Khánh eventually knew why. It was a protective mechanism similar to how Khánh herself closed herself off from the outside world for ostracizing her heritage.

The two found friendship in each other. It was not long until Andreth confided to Khánh about her star-crossed romance with King Finarfin’s son and older brother of the Lady Galadriel, Aegnor – her flame.

With all the successful marriages between elven women and human men, Khánh wondered how Andreth was not more indignant about her own demise.

When it was announced that Eru Ilúvatar would finally allow all the elven kind to settle in Arda Remade from the West, all rejoiced. Lúthien and Arwen would finally be reunited with their families. Arda would become what it was originally meant to be. It also meant Prince Aegnor and his family were present in their world at this very moment.

One would think Andreth jumped for joy and one of the first ones to race to the shore to be reconciled with her former lover, but she did not. Instead, she froze at the announcement and with a stone face, turned her heels, returned to her library and uttered not a word.   
She never attempted to seek Aegnor out or any elf for that matter.   
It was not until this celebrational feast at Lord Elrond’s home that contained other invited members – all of the Fellowship, Elrond’s biological side of the family, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Éomer and his family and Haleth did Andreth deign to attend the banquet.

Here, the three mortal women were rather wallflowers. Haleth was abrasive and intimidated men. She remained unmarried. Andreth while possessing a dark kind of beauty comparable to that of an Elvish maid, was icy, unapproachable and very much still attached to her Noldorin Prince. No Edain men attempted to woo her.

And Khánh, well… She was just too plain, small, exotic and reserved for men’s tastes. It was not that she was a hideous orc so much as her being unimpressive. She does not draw people’s eyes other than for her coloring. She dressed in muted browns and greys. Her brown eyes did not inspire people to write songs about. Her dark hair was shorn short enough to be unattractive and unconventional. In regions where pale skin was considered ideal, her own swarthy complexion left much to be desired.   
Come to think of it, were the orcs not of mostly dusky complexions and were considered to be repulsive by elves and men alike?   
Hm…Her heart grew cold at the realization.

In fact, her own step aunt and cousins made it very clear that little and plain Khánh was unwanted in the family from the mere age of ten.   
Soon, they sent her to Woodcreek School where the higher ups treated their students terribly, but it was key to Khánh escaping her atrocious family in the end.

Even in the new world, Khánh led a quiet if not boring, solitary life as a spinster and teacher of herbs. 

Khánh took a bite of the fruit and nut mix placed in front of her and glanced at Andreth. She was weeping now as Haleth rolled her eyes.

“Who gives a damn if the time of elves has come again?” She muttered and chugged down her wine.  
“They can stay in their own territories and never bother us poor mortals ever again.”

“Hear, hear. I am going to have to agree with that sentiment,” Haleth nodded, remembering her unpleasant encounters with one of the princes of the Noldor, Caranthir, as well as King Thingol years ago. She looked strangely wistful.

The sudden commotion from the table next to them drew their attentions. It was Gimli and Éomer bickering again.

“Like I said, Lord Éomer,” The dwarf grunted slamming down his jug of ale on the table with a _clang._   
“The magnificent Queen Galadriel of the Golden Woods is the fairest lady I have been fortunate enough to se

t my eyes upon. And no one can dispute the dwarven sense of beauty.”

Éomer let out an amused snort.

“While I cannot argue your preferences, master dwarf for the lady Galadriel is indeed fair – I must insist that her majesty, Queen Arwen surpasses her grandmother by far.”

The King of Rohan and dwarf continued their ridiculous debate as the two ladies in question did not look pleased. King Aragorn and Lord Celeborn only looked dismayed.  
The other males of the party were otherwise too busy admiring any Elven lady that passed their vicinity, servants or royal.

 _Yes, we are certainly wallflowers,_ Khánh thought.

oOo

“It’s so boring,” Haleth complained, picking her teeth with a wheat grass. The chieftain had just completed her duties for the day and decided to pay Khánh a visit at the school.

The very school she lived her life in as a poor student to eventual teacher growing up. After years of students being starved, poorly dressed and abused, everyone was relieved when the old supervisor of the school with his poor management and atrocious behavior had been replaced with a more competent and compassionate school board running reasonable authority. With the decree of King Elessar, the students were fed healthily, clothed and were given adequate education.   
Their rusty school walls improved and outside lessons under the sun and around nature were the norm.

“I imagine it must be boring stitching leather quivers for your patrons day in and day out,” Khánh replied lightly.   
“Regardless, you had the adventures and meetings of all things dangerous and fascinating in your past life in Middle Earth. Imagine me. The dreamy and passionate creature stuck in a coward’s body never venturing out of the educator’s shelf life and traumatic childhood.”

As Khánh expected for they both knew each other too well ever since she, Haleth and Andreth forged their bond in Arda Remade, Haleth offered her no pity or honeyed words.   
But that was exactly why she was a comforting figure in Khánh’s life.

“You only have yourself to blame for the latter half of your life,” Haleth said bluntly. She perked her head up from her resting spot beneath the willow tree.

“Yes. Yes, I know,” Was the crisp response.

Haleth continued on.

“I am not saying you need to go out, put charcoal on your eyes and dress like a harlot. And while I empathize with you having to live with insane step-relatives who treated you badly, after you graduated from that horrid school, you should have left the place and attempted to live your life independently the way you wanted.”

“That was not realistic at the time and you know it,” Khánh shook her head. “I was not like you; Still am not. I was not born in a line of family like the Haladin where females could become leaders and have that sort of privilege. Other than getting married and eventually being fully dependent on a husband, if not a teacher, I would not have survived on my own in that world as a woman. I was neither noble nor royal, but a simple commoner.”

She looked at herself critically in the nearby pond; her lightly-lidded black eyes and a low nose that was rather flat.   
“I am not blind. I have a different heritage and features than everyone else. Not even a beauty either before you suggest I do become a harlot as a means to earn a living. I have zero prospects.”

The wheat-haired Haladin woman was quiet for a moment before she casually spoke.

“Well Khánh – You are in Arda Remade now for Eru’s sake. You have all the opportunities in your favor. Why are you still teaching if you find yourself stifled by it? What does beauty got to do with anything? Damn anyone’s standards and expectations. Besides, you’re not as bad looking as you think you are.”

Khánh snorted.

“I am serious,” Haleth said earnestly, going over to use her large, callused hands to shake the Southeastern woman’s smaller shoulders.   
“Look at me. I am too tall, broad and masculine for men’s delicate sensibilities. Do you think I give a fig? I am in the same boat you are. And if I let any of that put me down from striving to go after what I wanted to achieve; I would have been utterly helpless.”

She looked pensive.

“I’ll say. Advertise yourself. Send letters of your availability for work. You have experiences, credits and references. Years and years of them. Khánh, advertise yourself.”

Khánh stared at Haleth agape and was about to tell her she was insane, but she didn’t because Haleth’s words rung true.   
There was nothing holding her back now in this world. Societal rules were not as limiting, and she was supposedly free from all those who held her back.

Should she advertise herself? Something like a governess perhaps? Or even a healer?

For the first time, she was starting to feel something akin to hope.


	3. Chapter 2

** Chapter 2 **

_(Formenos)_

“Has he woken?” Nerdanel asked, stepping into the massive, dark chambers that her husband, now former husband, currently dwelled in. She got close, but distant at arm’s length enough to make the meeting as impersonal as possible. The mother of seven sons could not find it in herself to consider Fëanor her husband anymore after all that he had done to their fragilely-linked family.

“No, Amil. Atar has not risen for three days in a row now. It is as if he is dead,” Her eldest, Maedhros informed grimly.

Nerdanel closed her eyes and nodded. It was just like before when the family was happy and none of the unfortunate ordeals involving the Silmarils ever occurred. Fëanor had a comical habit of emerging himself in the forge and his craft to the point of insane absorption. At the end of the day, he would collapse and go into a deep, sleep coma for weeks.  
It was amusing at first until it became a long series of warning signs that his obsessive and passionate nature towards his art would lead him down a road she did not dare follow.

She allowed the nostalgic feelings to overcome her a bit as she looked down on her husband. His breathing was even as he slept like a cadaver. His long and large body looked small and vulnerable in the large bed with bear fur as sheets and quilts. She had never seen him look so at peace. Even now, with all his scarring, she found him too beautiful to be true. There was a glimpse of the Fëanor that she fell in love with and wed. Not the vicious madman that would stop at nothing to get his creations back including murder.

So Fëanor decided that this old-looking fortress here would be his abode. Nerdanel had sent message that she refused to renew their marriage vows. Both agreed he would not be living with them for the time being. After having spent some time to reconcile with his children, Fëanor had moved further into the mountains (the sort of scenery he always preferred,) gathered all the necessary materials and built this vast castle to live in all by himself.  
Whilst it was huge in size (she had known Fëanor to dislike closed, tight spaces,) the appearance was unrefined and unpolished – perhaps fit for a farmhand albeit a wealthy one.  
When Nerdanel and Fëanor resided in Tirion, they had lived luxuriously and extravagantly because Nerdanel had wanted it. Status and image might not have been important to Fëanor, but it certainly mattered to her.   
Inwardly, she was always proud of having married the much sought after son of Finwë and could never fathom how the respected and most handsome Prince (and King) of the Noldor could shun both the Valar so carelessly and repulsed all things respectable and proper befitting of Eldar royalty.  
Fëanor had insisted on the vagabond life and it was one of the many contentions in their marriage.

Maedhros. Maitimo. Her darling boy who took after her only in their shared hair color looked at Nerdanel apologetically.  
His face was most like Fëanor. Fine, chiseled features, but one could not look past their hard and piercing grey eyes.

“I apologize, Amil. I will do my best to wake him up. Perhaps we should ask for the help of Lord Irmo. It should not take the God long to devise some sort of concoction for Atar.”

Nerdanel stopped him. She looked resentfully at his right hand or lack thereof.

“No mind, Maitimo. Your father had caused that. It hurts my heart to see my own flesh and blood and my eldest son lose a limb for his changeable whims. If he desires to live as a lonely hermit for the rest of his life, let him.”

Nerdanel was surprised at how scathing she sounded just now. Always, she was considered the wise one. The gentle one. When had this change?

Maedhros blinked and looked grieved.

_Your father. It was not our Atar anymore._

oOo

It was quite terrifying walking into his father’s chambers. Granted, it was normal for the Eldar to sleep with their eyes open.  
Nevertheless, when Fëanor did fall unconscious, he truly looked like the dead for he was so disconcertingly still that it unnerved whomever was nearby.

Maedhros called in his brothers. By the time Celegorm and Caranthir barged in, thankfully their father had already awakened.   
Fëanor acted like nothing was amiss as he stretched his muscles and got out of bed.

“Ah, my sons,” His dark brows danced up.  
“When I built this castle as my personal home and sanctuary, I did not mean for my children to intrude in and out as they pleased. I sensed your mother’s presence. She was here was she not?”

He asked without heat. Going over to the stand that carried a basin and water pitcher, he began washing his face.

“You cannot keep pushing us away like this over and again, Atar,” Caranthir frowned. “You were out for five days in a row without sense or sound. You had us worried sick. Next time this happens, we might as well not care a fig and leave you in peace.”

Elves often healed fast, but Maedhros’ missing hand and scars were proof that there were always exceptions to the rule. Fëanor’s slashes all over his fair face and body coupled with his haggard appearance made him look like a wraith working for Sauron.

Still, he furrowed his brows and tutted at his fourth son. It was a bit of a relief to see that Fëanor was still used to being in command.

“You will watch your mouth, Caranthir. Now are you three finished? Or are there other matters for the visit? If it is about attending my dearest, half-brother’s reconciliation feast, I am not interested nor am I going.”

“As if we wished to go or make you go,” Caranthir snorted and looked away.  
“The Teleri are still, to this day, demanding a formal apology from us. Quite absurd if you asked me.”

“Oh? And I suppose me relinquishing my pride and joy, sacrificing my Silmarils for the light and day those silver-haired cretins now take for granted was not satisfactory enough for them?”

Maedhros sighed in frustration.

“They believe that whilst you did give the light to Laurelin and Telperion back, it was only forced charity. They would prefer a real apology in written and speech form from us. Naturally, there would be judges to evaluate our sincerity.”

“But it not a requirement,” Celegorm intervened quickly when Fëanor looked incredulous.

“That being said, we do not believe you are adequately healing, Atar,” Maedhros continued. “We can hear your disturbance in dreams at night even from our house. Your wounds and scars are still blistering red.”

Then Caranthir flushed. The red on his son’s cheeks usually meant he was about to say something he himself thought was sappy. An endearing trait Fëanor always noted with amusement.

“Right. We are aware of how much you value your one-man show so we will not bother you. Instead, Tyelkormo and I brought Huan over to stay with by your side. Just for a while in case you might need assistance is all.”

“Huan?” Fëanor raised a brow again. “You brought Turcafinwë’s wolf? Turcafinwë and his beast made up their bond again?”

Celegorm scratched his neck, looking sheepish.   
“I suppose you might say that. I will bring Huan over in a fortnight. He does not mind at all – looking forward to working with the one and only father actually. For all his care of Lúthien and the Teler, he had been curious about you.”

Fëanor sighed and got dressed with some difficulty. Just like old times, he wore the simplest and Earthiest of attire despite being a High Prince turned King with aplenty at his disposal.

“I never raised you boys to be so meddlesome. This was quite unnecessary you know,” But he gave Maedhros, Celegorm and Caranthir a rare and grateful smile that left them slack with words.   
“But I thank you nevertheless.”

“Yes and look at how we turned out in the end as the sons of King Arafinwë could attest,” Caranthir quipped.

“Moryo!” Maedhros hissed.

“What?” He asked innocently and Fëanor laughed loudly. He gave Caranthir a ‘we will talk about this later’ look.

“Anyways, as we were saying,” Maedhros continued giving Caranthir a glare.  
“You ought to think about hiring a healer. We are earnest in this.”

Fëanor scoffed. His sons have truly turned meddling after all these thousands of years. They’ve gone soft in the heart and head. All from their mother no doubt. He’d mention this to Nerdanel later.

“I am not going to Lórien. I will be damned if I asked a Vala for anything.”

“Not a Vala. But other than Huan, how about an Elven or even one of the Secondborn to help you?”

“You lot are acting as if I am a useless handicap who cannot see his own bullocks when bending in half,” Fëanor growled.  
“I am not acquiring a healer, Elven or otherwise. He or she would just get in the way whilst I went back to work.”

The argument carried on until all were blue in the face with no consensus. As his sons got ready to leave his castle, Caranthir looked at his father over the shoulder.

“Think about it, old man. Whether you like it or not, your body and mind are not as durable as it once was. A temporary healer will be in your best interest.”

oOo

Fëanor was chagrinned to comprehend that even with Huan’s attentive although snarky assistance, he was still a dog with a different kind of body not convenient for all matters of Eldar accommodation. Fëanor’s body truly was entirely useless. It had been over a year with no signs of improvement. Once so resilient, his physical form was now a feeble and quivering shell of what it used to be. He could barely pick up a hammer without dropping the heavy object on his toes.

It was not until the day when could not force his fingers to even shape the metal clasps around a pendant for a simple necklace for his wife did he let out a frustrated yowl, threw the necklace against a wall with the last bit of his strength and sat down to weep bitterly.

It was no use.

His body’s fiery combustion at the time of his death and his imprisonment in Námo’s halls had completely demolished his physical hröa from within.  
Had the Valar intended this as retribution so that he could not wreak more havoc?   
A depressing and enraging thought.

Enough.

He would look for a healer, but it would be a temporary arrangement. A healer could perform any means necessary to put his hröa back to the supreme way it was.  
This need not be a permanent issue.  
Fëanor was not called the mightiest in all parts of body and mind for nothing.

He would personally look for an Elven healer of course. He had too much pride to accept any of the Valar’s help including from the best, Irmo of Lórien.   
As for the mortals, he had never known any significant human skilled or talented enough to catch his attention or to place his trust upon.

An Elven healer was the next best option. Last he heard, one of his sons ended up taking a pair of fosterling twins; one of which ended up being a renowned healer of all Arda by the name of Elrond – The Peredhil.

oOo

_Author’s Notes: I want to personally thank 3GreenQuills, OctaviaMadness and Guest from AO3 for reviewing. Guest, your entire comment was a mood. I laughed a lot and agreed for the most part.  
Again, thank you to DroidePlane from Fanfiction for reviewing the first chapter._

_Remember, reviews are encouraging._   
  


_Vocabulary and Names_

_Eldar - Elves_

_Atar – Father_

_Amil – Mother_

_Maitimo – Maedhros_

_Irmo – Lórien_

_Turcafinwë/Tyelkormo – Celegorm_

_Moryo – Caranthir_

_Peredhil – Half-Elven_

_Secondborn – Humans_

_Firstborn – Elves_

_Hröa – Physical Form_

_Fëa – Spiritual Form_


	4. Chapter 3

** Chapter 3 **

_(Woodcreek School)_

It was a lovely, clear day with Laurelin out bright shining over Woodcreek academy. All the students and teachers were sitting around the courtyard outside for their mid-day meal, chitter and chattering about.

In their small, little school, there were a total of twenty students. All were born in Arda Remade now that people were more likely to crave birthing children again.  
Because there were only twenty students, only three teachers were needed – all of which were females for their all-girls school. One teacher, Ivorwen taught music and embroidery as those were the two activities girls ought to know since young. Sharah, a well learned woman hired from the far South taught herbal history and geography.  
The one in charge of educating the girls on how to actually mix the chemistry of herbs and the variety of liquids to make ointments, medicines and other medicinal products were Khánh’s role. The rest of the staff were generously paid servants.

For luncheon, the students and staff members switched from their usual wooden chairs and tables to shared stone benches around a circle by firewood.   
Meals cooked were modest and simple – everyone got only one course and a mug of water. The meal was the soup of the day, bread and cheese.

Once the mid-day meal came to a close, one of the servant girls went to the bench the teachers occupied and gave Ivorwen a stack of mails that had just been newly arrived.

Ivorwen thanked the servant girl and slowly went through the weeks’ news and letters mainly from other schools and scholars.  
When Ivorwen got to the last scroll, she picked up a parchment that looked more grandiosely designed than the rest. The paper, seal and ink looked far more elegant than any of the mails Creekwood school ever received.  
She cracked the crimson seal in the shape of an insignia she did not recognized, Ivorwen opened the rolled up parchment.

A moment later, the music and embroidery teacher spoke and the atmosphere stilled.

“Professor Khánh. There seems to be a letter for you.”

Khánh froze in the midst of swallowing a spoonful of broth.  
She did not have to think thrice to figure out what the letter was possibly about.  
Sharah, who sat on her right, looked at her curiously.

_It was finally here._

Khánh did not blame either the teachers or the students’ surprise. In all her time at Creekwood, she was never significant enough a person to receive mail let alone one that looked so grand.  
Khánh nodded at Ivorwen in thanks, snatched the letter and quickly tucked it in her dress’ pocket.

oOo

Back in her own rooms that night, Khánh sat on her wooden bed and finally allowed herself to read the letter.

She spent the better part of the day try to calm herself down whilst showing the girls how to make a poultice for minor scratches from beasts and sharp edges.  
Her heart would not stop beating in her chest as her anticipation grew the more.

Last week, she had sent out advertisements of herself to be published all over academic boards far and wide. She was willing to travel greater distances if necessary. In a way, it would sort of be the kind of adventure and excitement she had craved all her life.

If someone wanted to hire her, it would be Khánh’s first time exploring out of Creekwood School. Before she got ahead of herself, she took a pause.

What if the mail was completely different than what she had looked forward to?  
People would not just personally go out of their way to hand out rejection letters would they?

Khánh shook her head.

It was no use mulling over what ifs. Concentrating, she began reading the neat, black script written in Westron.

_‘To the Lady Khánh,_

_I apologize for having no other titles to address the lady with for Khánh was the only name we were provided._

_If Lady Khánh who advertised herself as healer and possesses the requirements of being able to treat both physical and spiritual ailments and in the position to give satisfactory references as to character and competency, a situation can be offered to her where there is but one patient, a male Firstborn of age which shall not be disclosed. The salary is forty silver coins per fortnight._

_Lady Khánh is requested to send references, name, address and all particulars to the direction: “Elrond Eärendilion, Enedduin, near Formenos – shire.”’_

It was brief and succinct enough.

Elrond…Wait the Elrond, Lord of Rivendell? Father of Queen Arwen and in law of his majesty, King Elessar? Why would someone as great as him want to hire her? Khánh, the mere common mortal? Forty silver coins per fortnight? This sounded too pleasing to be true.

And then she focused on the word Formenos – the name of the location signed; Khánh swore she heard or read it from somewhere before. She attempted to jog her memory, but the door to her bedroom swung open rudely with a slam.  
Haleth barged in without preamble.

“You are really leaving this school?” She demanded; her hazel orbs lighted with glee.

Khánh breathed out and answered: “Yes. I took your idea and advertised myself. Lo and behold, I got a response.”

Haleth stilled and then grinned broadly.

“Fantastic. From whom responded to you?”

Khánh hesitated before giving the chief-woman the note.

“Here, read for yourself.”

Haleth snatched the letter eagerly and quickly gave its contents a thorough scan.  
Her smile quickly faded and her eyes narrowed.

“Formenos? Elrond Eärendilion? Why does Formenos sound so familiar?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Khánh crossed her arms and pressed it against her chest.

“Lord Elrond is not a bad sort and I do respect him to a degree,” Haleth began, frowning.

“But it sounds like you will be working with not just any group of Elves but the Noldor Elves. They brought nothing but trouble and misery to Arda during my youth when I lead the Haladin.”

“Yes, I remember. Their stories took up entire pages in the textbooks I had to read as a child,” Khánh shook her head.  
“Nonetheless, this is a chance for me to finally leave Woodcreek, so I am not about to stop because of some Noldorin Elves.”

Haleth nodded thoughtfully and gave Khánh a serious expression.

“For your sake, I hope you are working with every day, safe people from the House of Elrond.”

Khánh gave a short laugh and brushed away the woman’s worries.

“Do not fret, Haleth. I highly doubt Lord Elrond would send a mortal like me for someone important. There are much more skilled Elves for that job. Besides, it sounds like I am treating a hurt patient. What could he possibly do to me?”

oOo

“I hope you don’t think me ungrateful,” Khánh said as she took her traveling bag and the few items, she owned from Sharah whom walked her to the brown mare waiting.  
“You were one of my first companions who showed me mercy and kindness when I was just a little student in a school full of wolves.”

In a way, Sharah being an exotic, dark-skinned woman herself from foreign lands, was able to sympathize with Khánh’s struggles growing up.  
Sharah, being much older and wiser than many had gently guided the spirited Khánh out of trouble whenever she got into squabbles with authority and teachers handing out corporal beatings to her.

“Not at all. It was my pleasure in this life to help you and the girls find their way.”

Sharah pulled Khánh into a long and warm embrace.

“You have no idea how happy you have made me in finding a new situation and doing something different for yourself to reach your potential. Even if it took until we reached this new world we currently live in.” 

Sharah smiled a little sadly, but her green eyes were full of pride.

“Fare thee well, my friend.”

oOo

Khánh had spent the last two days training on horseback. Being the sheltered lady with little worldly experience that she was, she had to get used to being by herself on a horse.  
But there were guides to lead her along the way of course.

Eventually, she did manage to be decent enough on a gentle horse, but most agreed a tamed mare would be the most safe.

Her guides to Enedduin that day were Elrond’s twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir.  
Elladan, kind soul that he was, consistently worried over Khánh – it was her first time ever traveling a long way from home. It would take them at least until nightfall to reach Formenos.   
Elrohir filled their waterskins and gave each to the three of them.

“Make sure to take a sip once every hour to preserve your energy, but not too much so that we do not have to take frequent breaks,” He reminded.

Other than said minor concerns, the twins were more than happy to escort Khánh to Enedduin.

At first, it was fine. But after an hour or so, Khánh began to feel the first signs of soreness on her back, buttocks and legs from being on the back of a horse for so long (by her standards.)  
She felt ridiculous as she was riding on a gentle mare while Elladan and Elrohir looked non-plussed the whole time on their intimidating, black stallions.

Elladan had grinned and told her this was normal even for Elves. The only reason why his brother and he were so unaffected by the sores and aches of riding (other than being Elves) were because they were seasoned warriors and continuous traveling and riding was simply a way of life.

To distract Khánh from the pain and fatigue, the twins began singing and telling her stories from the Arda of old to the present of Arda Remade.   
She soon learned that the mare she was riding was called Tiril for the beautiful horse had the most penetrating, brown gaze when she looked at you and nipped your fingers.   
Tiril had been an excellent riding friend for Khánh. She immediately sensed Khánh’s anxiety and not once did the mare try to trot at anything other than at a reasonable speed. Nor did she try to heave the woman off her back.

Khánh never really got to see the Firstborns up close ever in her life. She knew they were universally thought to be objectively beautiful people and had more grace than the average human. But whatever little chance she got to have a glimpse of Elves were far away.  
She could only ever make out that they were generally quite tall, had long hair (men and women,) and an elegant bearing.   
The feast she went to some time ago with Haleth and Andreth at Lord Elrond’s house was the closest she had ever got to seeing the Eldar race.  
Other than Queen Arwen who was beyond beautiful, naturally.

This trip to Enedduin with Elrond’s twins was the closest chance Khánh ever got to truly see Elves up close.

Khánh thought they were grand looking before, but up close and personal, Khánh could see why the Edain often sung about their indescribable fairness.   
It was easy to see why Beren, Aragorn, Tuor and even Andreth got infatuated the way they did.  
Eru help any mortal fool enough to be left bereft for falling for one of these folks.

 _That would never be me,_ Khánh promised herself.

Khánh was most surprised by how tall Elladan and Elrohir were in person and wondered if there were taller folks of their kind. The twins easily doubled her in height. They were not just tall. They were muscled and slightly stocky.  
She assumed the large portions of food they ate like how they did along this journey contributed to that.

oOo

Khánh had never felt worse physical agony in both of her lives. Perhaps she exaggerated because she would take this kind of soreness to her aunt’s harsh cuffs to the ears any time.  
Still, by the time they arrived to Formenos, Laurelin had shifted and Telperion had risen.  
She could barely feel her legs. Once she was able to scramble off Tiril, she had promptly stumbled and fallen to the ground.

“Are you well, my lady?” Elrohir quickly reached out to her and helped her up.

“I swore I would get the hang of it by now,” Khánh groaned.  
“But I seem to get worse every time.”

“No, you are not,” Elladan said firmly. “Riding takes plenty of practice and you are, but a novice in this vigorous activity. We have been journeying the whole day. I know mortals tire easier so it’s just as well we have arrived to our designated location.”

“We are here? In Formenos?” Khánh asked in astonishment and quickly took in her surroundings.

This was where the Eldar resided. During their journey, Khánh finally recalled where she heard the name Formenos from. It was the name of the estate where the late and infamous Fëanor dwelled after his exile.   
She doubted she would ever meet such an unpleasant Elven man in history for she was sure the Valar would never let someone who sinned as much as Fëanor did to be reborn in Arda Remade. She was curious about why Lord Elrond would send her not only here, but even further into the mountains to what she soon learned was a huge, ominous-looking castle called Enedduin. Vines and moss had grown to cover a good majority of the construction.

As they traveled through Elven territory, Khánh learned which cities and parts were called Tirion, Alqualondë and Tol Eressëa just like the rough sketches Andreth drew which she hung in her rooms.  
Khánh once thought that the city of Gondor could not be beat in their white splendor. To say Khánh was wholly incorrect was a blasphemous understatement.

If Rivendell was beautiful for example, Tol Eressëa was simply heavenly.

Elven architecture was truly marvelous and one of a kind. Whomever helped build their halls, walls and sanctuary had keen eyes for details. On top of that, they knew where all the beautiful locations were for the most awe-inspiring, natural sceneries.

The thing is, however, such beauty and perfection left Khánh feeling cold.  
She did not miss the way passerby elves stared her down in both mild curiosity and dare she say it, contempt.   
A plain and unassuming mortal like her had no place on Elven lands.

They were not headed to Enedduin yet. The twins led her to the main house in Formenos and a young, Elven servant rushed out with a lamp to open the gates.

“My lords, Elladan and Elrohir. We are relieved to see you well and whole. I trust your journey was a smooth one?” He ignored Khánh entirely.

“All was well, Candirion. Thank you,” Elladan replied, handing the younger elf their weapons and outer armor.

“Lord Elrond is waiting inside for all of you.”

Khánh held her stomach. She was starving, thirsty and so tired from her ride. On top of that, the flimsy cloak made of cheap, thin material was hardly enough to keep her warm from the late, night chill.

She hoped to retire early, but she had to make her introductions to Lord Elrond first.

The main doors opened wide and a tall, Elven man stepped out serenely.  
The figure was taller than the twins and Khánh recognized him as the severe Lord of Imladris.

He wore solemn, dark robes. His raven hair was long and a shining, silver circlet adorned high above his brows.  
But despite the solemnity, on his face was the youthful fairness that separated the Firstborn blood from the Secondborn.

“You must be, Lady Khánh. We have briefly met in Imladris I believe,” Elrond gave a brief bow and took her hand in greeting.

“Yes, we have, my lord. I have come, answering the summons in your letter and forfeited my position as teacher of Woodcreek school,” She bowed in return but hers was nowhere near as graceful to her chagrin. Lord Elrond smiled and gesture inside the main halls.

“Come. It was a long journey, was it not? You must be weary and hungry,” The Half-Elven put Khánh’s hand over his arm and walked.

“Candirion. Do go inside and make some tea. Cut a sandwich or two for Lady Khánh if you please.”

Khánh blushed and looked down. Never before had she had such fanfare and hospitality for her sake.

In a large room that was lit singularly by a fireplace, there were furniture made of the finest velvet. Elrond sat Khánh on the couch in the middle, facing the flames.  
It was the most comfortable and softest chair she had ever sat on.

“Come warm yourself by the fire,” Elrond went over to the cart Candirion rolled in to pour a cup of steaming, hot liquid.

“Please do not trouble yourself,” Khánh spoke awkwardly, not certain how to receive such servitude.

“No, my lady. It is no trouble at all. It is the least I could do for asking you to undertake the task you are about to do,” Elrond spoke quietly. He placed the tea and plate of meat sandwich in front of her.

Khánh startled.

“Whatever do you mean, Lord Elrond?”

Elrond sat down to her left and took a sip of his drink before looking back at her.

“Normally, we would not hire one of the Edain for this job,” He admitted reluctantly. He looked like he was gathering his thoughts before continuing, but Khánh was not accustomed to Elven lack of facial expressions.

“My lord?”

“It was I. He originally sent for me to heal and well, assist him in matters of his business, but understand me, lady. You are aware I do not reside here in Formenos.”

“Yes…” Her answer raised in a form of an inquiry. She was not sure what else to say at this moment.

“I have duties back in Imladris that I must attend to. However, you needed a job. You do not need to fear. I will pay you a visit in Enedduin once every week to see how you are faring. I have provided an ample of servants to call upon. The sons of your patient are nearby in case he attempts anything questionable on you,” Elrond explained.

Khánh frowned in apprehension.

“My lord Elrond. For Arda’s sake, you have not even informed me. Who in all of Mandos’ seven hells is to be my patient that I am spending time with exactly?”

The master of Imladris settled back into his seat and stared straight into Khánh’s disturbed, brown gaze with his own opaque greys.

“Curufinwë Fëanáro.”

oOo

**_Author’s Notes:_ ** _To any who remembers, this story is going to follow the storyline of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. So yes, Elrond here is acting as Mrs. Fairfax._

**_Response to my precious reviewers who took their time reviewing:_ **

_To Guest from Fanfiction – Thank you for being the first critic. I will do a better job with being clear about Arda Before vs After.  
True, I have a habit of info dumping, but will work on that. My issue is that I am naturally impatient and have difficulty spacing out information within the chapters because I have no guarantee that I would get to those chapters.  
As for world building, my focus with this story is inter-relationships and following another already canon storyline of a classic. All my effort with world building are in my fics that have “adventure” in the genre. I can add more details to how I envision Arda Remade to be, but anymore than that would simply be unnecessary filler and info dumping.   
As for not feeling the human women, I get that. But we are only a few chapters in. I can’t very well make them rich and multi-dimensional immediately on the spot otherwise it would be more, like you said, info dumping. And this is from Khánh’s POV. She is biased. She is not omnipresent.  
I do plan on having side stories for Andreth and Haleth and how they conclude, but it has to be a gradual thing for it to be a natural progress.  
So yes, I suppose they would seem flat upon the first few chapters. _

_Now, on to your comment about elves vs mortal angst. Technically speaking, yes. The mortals are immortal in my own interpretation of Arda Remade. But the angst comes from memories of their previous life which especially for elves and humans, take a huge toll on the spirit in the Tolkien universe._  
It’s not simply “oh we’re immortal now, let’s go ride unicorns, pick daisies and live happily ever after.”   
The laws, customs and culture clash between mortals and elves are still there. Different and clashing mindsets are still there. Past mistakes and regrets are still there. 

_That being said, if this story isn’t too terrible for you, I would be appreciative of you staying and critiquing along the way so that I can improve._

_Names and Vocabulary_

_Eldar/Firstborn – Elves_

_Secondborn – Mortals_

_Peredhil – Half-Elven_


	5. Chapter 4

** Chapter 4 **

“Lord Elrond,” Khánh said quietly after she stared at the Lord of Imladris for a good, long minute.  
“Is there perhaps another elf by that name that is to be my patient? There must be because there is no way- “

“It is exactly what you think,” Elrond confirmed.

“You mean to tell me that the Fëanáro I am thinking of – one who had been nothing but a legend from my childhood, is right here with us in Arda Remade?” She asked skeptically.

“Yes. I am aware this is quite a shock for you, Lady Khánh,” He began again.

“Oh, it is much more than a shock I assure you, my lord,” She snapped; her heart thundering in her chest.  
“You are setting me up, a lowly mortal, to heal and put up with a murderer. A kinslayer of your kind!”

“My lady, allow me to explain- “

“It is no wonder you did not want this job nor any other elf for that matter. You manipulated me…”

“Child, no! Calm yourself,” Elrond interjected with a raise of his voice that shut Khánh up.

“I am the foster son of Makalaurë Fëanorian; Fëanor’s second eldest son. We know him and are aware of what he is and is not capable of. Believe me, lady, we would not have allowed anyone near the man unless we were certain they would not come to harm at all. We would have taken the position in assisting him ourselves. But like I said, no one else would do it because of, well, his infamous temperament and reputation. I am needed back at Imladris and you advertised noting of your availability.”

“But- “

Elrond raised up a hand up to Khánh, signaling to let him finish speaking.

“Peace, little one. Here in Arda Remade, no one and I mean Eldar, men or anyone else are given leave to do anything evil or mischievous. You are completely safe, we promise. And if you do run into any trouble whatsoever, we have assigned maids and guards to Enedduin to be at your service. You can call upon my sons or Fëanor’s own any time.”

“Fëanor’s sons are here?” Khánh whispered.

“Indeed,” Elrond smiled, finishing up his tea.

“Fëanor himself is not currently at Enedduin right now. He will return from his trip in whatever days. But Maedhros, my foster father Maglor live right by if you go out the back door and turn to the house on your left. I would not bother with Celegorm, Caranthir or Curufin. You may find that they are not too friendly towards the Secondborn.”

Khánh was not surprised. There were not too many Elves that were genuinely friendly toward them.

“Now then,” Elrond uncrossed his legs and stood up. “Let us take a little tour around the estate, the castle and then I will show you to your room. Are we in agreement?”

“…Fine.”

oOo

Elrond proved to be most learned and knowledgeable as he guided Khánh around the main house, the garden, the porch and connected buildings. He was not just content with directing her where the basic locations such as where the kitchen, washrooms, break rooms, and bedrooms were. For every painting on the wall or sculpture ornate, Elrond had to showcase the history behind the creation too.

The acres of land holding Formenos was a vast one that stretched over fifty kilometers long and thirty-five kilometers wide. Unlike the pristine, white perfection of Tirion, Formenos was all Earthy grey stones and bricks.   
The garden was left to grow on its own mostly without Elven touch to mimic the nature produced by Lady Yavanna.  
Every single mansion connected to the main house.

Elrond did not go into specifics about who lived where, but informed that Fëanor’s two eldest sons occupied the house shaped like a dome surrounded by spears with the curved, stone bridge crossing to the main house.

Once the two were outside on the pathway towards the surrounding, deep forests behind the estate, Elrond led Khánh into the area of Enedduin.

The castle had the most sturdy and pragmatic structure she had ever seen. While the natural landscapes here were much more haunting and mysterious, it was no less beautiful.  
The majority of the trees present were oak and willow. The rest were snowy mountains and a crystalline lake.

Elrond took out a ring of keys from his sleeve and unlocked one of the two wooden doors.

“Lord Fëanor provided these keys for me because I am one of the few people he trusts,” Elrond said as they went inside.

It was dark, but it was clean and well kept. The floors had curiously red carpeting. Just like in the main houses, sculptures of the Valar and Elves were tastefully adorned in strategic locations.

“I told Candirion about these potted plants,” Elrond clicked his tongue in annoyance and picked up a clay pot holding dead orchid flowers inside.

“Even if Lord Fëanor is temporarily gone, we always keep the castle decent and ready for him for one does not know when he will return most days and grow dissatisfied.”

“Does he leave often?” The more Khánh learned about Formenos, Enedduin and its inhabitants, the more she found herself more inquiring about the master of the castle.

“Fëanor? Oh yes. He is quite unpredictable in his comings and goings.”

Khánh wondered at that. She was trying to make head and tail of the same legendary mad elf she had only heard stories and songs about to the master of Enedduin whom is going to be her newest patient.

“What is he like on a personal level? When I came here, I thought you would be the lord of this castle?”

“Me?” Elrond let out an exclamation of amusement. “Heavens no, child. No, I am just the temporary housekeeper here.”

“Fëanor can be difficult as you can imagine. His method and demeanor can be rather…Unconventional to some, but I have observed that he is always fair to those he deem worthy and that includes servants and yes, the Edain.”

Elrond glanced back at Khánh before looking down at the dead white orchids.

“He is not a happy man, Lady Khánh. Ever since his father, King Finwë, remarried after his late wife passed away in Arda Before – His father’s murder by Melkor, Fëanor had never been the same.”

Khánh did not understand nor did she want to. This was a man – no. A mighty elf who had it all; wealth, title, loving parents, loving wife, beauty, talents and sons who adored him.  
She was a plain nobody, no money, no prospects, grew up in an abusive household and no family of her own in both Arda Before and Arda After.

And this man was upset his father remarried a good, beautiful woman and declared war over stolen jewels of all things?

As far as Khánh was concerned, Fëanor was simply a spoiled and coddled royal who grew up with a mithril spoon in his mouth. In fact, he reminded her of the insufferable Gondorian nobles she sometimes witnessed in the Arda Before. She was not entirely sure they ever disappeared in Arda Remade.

oOo

“This is your room.”

Elrond opened the door to a room that was furnished simply but looked extremely homey.  
There was a bed with thick quilts, cushions, a little wooden wardrobe, a modest vanity table with a mirror and all the basic toiletries, but this was much more than she had ever owned in her life.

“It is rather small compared to our other available rooms,” Elrond commented. “But I am sure you will not want the bigger chambers this castle has upstairs on the second level. They are very dreary. If this castle had ghosts…”

He gave Khánh a knowing look.

“That would be its haunt.”

Khánh stepped into the room and looked at all the humble contents that were given to her to use and live in.  
Tears sprung into her eyes when her fingers felt the silken bedding.

“What is the matter, Lady Khánh?” Elrond voiced; his brows furrowed in concern.

Khánh wiped a tear away quickly.

“It’s nothing, Master Elrond. This room is perfect. I will treasure this act of kindness forever,” Khánh promised softly.

The master of Imladris looked at Khánh strangely and smiled gently. With that, Elrond bid her goodnight.

Sunlight streaming through the open window splashing warmly on her face woke her up the next morning. It was one of the few times where she woke up with a thrill to start the day, particularly because she remembered where she was and it was not at Woodcreek school.

Sounds of birds signaling to rise permeated the still air and Khánh smiled as she laid in bed, savoring and absorbing this beautiful moment of her day.  
But soon, she happily rose, got dressed in one of the plain, woolen, brown dresses she brought. She cleaned her teeth with the tooth powder placed in a jar for her. After washing her face, she looked at herself in the mirror. Once more, she saw an unimpressive face, but she could attempt to neaten her short, dark hair a bit with a comb.

Of course, Khánh ought to get ready for her new patient and start setting up her healing room, but it should not be too brazen to wish to explore Formenos and fascinating Enedduin a little bit more.

She left her chambers to stroll down the long hall. The castle was large. It had many rooms, stairs and turns. There was nothing primeval about it. Lord Elrond could try to keep the place looking spotless, but there was something about how the castle was built and furnished that looked…Tantalizingly barbaric.   
The colors were either a scandalous red or it was rustic.  
Khánh was mortified to find out some of the statues and paintings were in the nude for all eyes to see.

She found a way that led outside. During the daytime, the view of the lake and forest was much clearer and glittering. Laurelin and Arien made the flickering lights above the water sparkle brilliantly.

She remembered the trail that went from Enedduin to the residences of the main houses.  
Enjoying the sight before, something interesting caught her attention from the smaller building behind the bigger ones.  
A long, red scarf (or was it a shawl?) hung curiously down the window dancing in the winds. She thought she saw movement behind the blurred up glass but was not able to make out anything else.

“Ah, Lady Khánh. You are up early,” It was Elladan. He was not in the armor he wore yesterday, but he was dressed for a day’s riding; his horse was with him.  
“I hope you slept well.”

“Yes, I did. I was anxious to meet the rest of the Fëanorians,” She replied, smiling shyly.

“Ah yes. Well you won’t have to wait long,” He chuckled and took her arm.

“Does one of the them hang about in that room?” Khánh pointed to the window where the red scarf swung. Only this time, there was no scarf.  
Very curious indeed.

“Oh goodness, no,” Elladan shook his head and cleared his throat. “That part of this estate belongs to…Well pay no mind to it. I am sure no one was there.”

“Oh. I thought I saw someone at the window,” She said idly as they walked to the main entrance at the front.

Elladan grew uncomfortable and shifted uneasily.

“There is only Erien; the maid there. She does the laundry.”

“Watch out!” Another male voice from a few feet away warned hastily. Before Khánh could react, something squirmy with claws fell underneath the collar of her dress at the back of her neck. She screamed and ducked down, covering her head.

“What’s the matter?” Elladan quickly demanded.

The squirming creature escaped and scurried away in fright; it was a squirrel.

“I did say watch out, you foolish woman,” The angry male voice spoke again.

“Celegorm. Please do not speak to a lady like that. This is Lady Khánh,” Elladan snapped.  
“It is your fault you let the animals loose.”

“Quiet, son of Peredhil,” Was the quick retort.

A tall, blonde elf that looked to spend most of his time in dirt instead of polite society, came towards them with a scowl.

“Err, nice to meet you,” Khánh, who was still flabbergasted from the encounter, tried to start on the right foot with this angry fair person. “You must be one of Lord Fëanor’s sons?”

Celegorm looked at her up and down with a slight sneer.

“And you must be Atar’s new healer. I did not think they would bring such an ugly mortal here to serve someone as great as Atar.”

Khánh’s face and ears flushed.

_This brat!_

“Celegorm,” Elladan growled. He looked like he was about to maul the other male elf.  
“Apologize to Lady Khánh.”

“And why would I do that?” The blonde Fëanorian jeered and went back into the house.

Khánh knew not to take comments like these personally at this point. But being insulted for her looks stirred the same painful memories of her childhood when adults and schoolboys thought it was alright to throw hurtful words like “plain,” “ugly” and “exotic” at her like it was the done thing to do.

“Lady Khánh, I deeply apologize for Celegorm’s behavior,” Elladan sighed, contrite. “He had always been one of Fëanor’s more difficult sons to deal with. My adopted father, his older brothers, was not all that fond of him either.”

“I hope the other sons of Fëanor besides Celegorm is nice. But given their history, I am not holding on to hope.”

At that Elladan laughed and escorted Khánh to breakfast.

oOo

At the breakfast table were the twins, the blonde, disagreeable jerk earlier – Celegorm, Lord Elrond and two other Elves she did not recognized. One of them was excessively tall and had the most striking red hair. Interestingly, he was the first elf she had seen with so much scars and damage on his otherwise handsome face. He did not seem to mind her rude stare and smiled graciously at her. She flushed and looked away.  
Next to the redhead was a slightly shorter, dark-haired elf. He, too, had a gentle aura about him and Lord Elrond seemed to hold him in respect and affection a great deal.

“Lady Khánh, you have already met my sons and my daughter, Arwen. May I introduce you to,” Elrond gestured to the redhead. “Maedhros. He is like a dear uncle to me. You will notice some here call him by his mother-name, Maitimo.”

Maedhros was the comely eldest son of Fëanor’s brood of seven. She remembered that now.  
Maedhros brought his left hand to his chest and inclined his head at Khánh.  
Then she understood.

_Of course. He had no right hand anymore._

“Well met, my lady. We thank you for coming here and taking on the task of caring for our father. It will not be an easy job.”

Khánh nodded. Everyone was telling her similar things and she had just agreed to work for the reputable Fëanor whom she was not aware inhabited this Arda until now.  
She wondered if it was too late to back off from the job.

“And this is my long loved and lost friend whom I still consider my Atar in every way but blood,” Elrond regarded the gentle, dark-haired elf with a fond look. “Maglor.”

“You give me too much credit, Elrond,” Maglor replied, smiling back whilst taking a sip of his watered wine. He bowed courteously to Khánh.

“These two men are the ones you should come to for guide and help other than the servants,” Elrond instructed her.

“Certainly. Come to us for anything at all, Lady Khánh. We know our terrible father more than anyone else here,” Maglor agreed gravely.

“Both of you, try not to make her bolt out on us already on the first day,” Elrohir requested with a sardonic roll of his eyes.

Khánh laughed and the others joined in. For the time being, everything felt good.

oOo

_(Back at Enedduin Castle)_

“Here is where your office will be,” Maedhros opened up to a large room with many open windows and all sorts of plants and herbs. It looked like a lovely green house more than a medical chamber.

There were two patient beds on each side of the white walls. Garlic, onions and thyme hung in strings from the ceiling and shelves.

“Everything had been set up for you, but I trust you have brought whatever you personally require of your own?” Maedhros asked, lighting the candles with one hand.

“Yes, of course,” Khánh affirmed, holding up her bag.

“Good,” Maedhros smiled. “Will you be needing anything? Have any questions you want to ask before I go back to my library?”

Khánh thought about it. She already knew the answer but wanted to ask again.

“When will I meet Fëanor?”

Maedhros sighed and looked out the window into the plains of grass.

“I honestly could not tell you, Lady Khánh. My Atar comes and goes as he pleases. His returns are sporadic and never forewarned.”

Khánh looked down at her twiddling fingers, disappointed. “I understand. Thank you anyway.”

As the red-headed eldest left, Khánh took out all the supplies she brought with her in her pack and stocked the room. Then she rearranged the furniture and herbs here and there to her tastes until satisfactory.  
Nodding, Khánh left the room to explore the Enedduin Castle.

Elrond told her some time ago that if she went back down to the first floor where the pantry room was, the door on the right led to the master of the castle’s office room.  
She had never dared to go inside. The servants were on their break so this was Khánh’s only chance to sneak a peek.

Inside the spacious room were walls, tables and chairs of an interesting black color of lacquered wood.

The black table was in the back center and behind it was a luxurious chair covered in leather and brass décor.  
There were indiscernible pieces of metals and jewelry scattered about the hard floor. In a corner was a fireplace that was covered with soot and debris. In front of the fire were tools and objects dedicated to smithery.   
All that, Khánh somewhat expected of the great Fëanáro.

What really caught her eyes yet were the foreign and diverse collections hanging from the walls and sitting on the table. There were maps of all the regions in Arda, not just of Elven cities but mortals, dwarven, Hobbits…  
There were fossilized species of spiders and birds that could be found in her own native country and its surrounding countries.  
She was fascinated. The master of the house was an individual always hungry for knowledge, she could tell.

But like all things, change was always interesting at first until it became the norm.   
Khánh found herself quickly settling into Enedduin in a few days. The excitement of meeting Elrond and his family dwindled the more she got to know them. Elrond was always civil and wise if not a bit dull. He came and went and was mostly in his study, content to be working most of his days until supper. Maedhros was kind, but distant and she sensed a disturbance in him that would not be shared. Maglor was gentle, but always distracted. She would converse with him and just as she thought the conversation would be stimulating or continue to greater heights, Maglor would have that blank look in his eyes the very next moment and then retreat to occupy himself with his harp much to her private irritation.

For herself, she spent most of her days reshuffling her medical chamber even if it clearly did not need it. Elrond invited her to explore their large library as she wished so on other days, that was where she spent on the other side of the room as not to disturb Maedhros from his scholarly works. Some days, she amused by attempting to learn Quenyan or Sindarin with little success. She was past the age where absorbing a new language was easy and could only pick up random vocabulary her brain remembered based on actual conversations.   
At times, she rewarded herself by going outside for walks and enjoying the fresh air.

She saw the red scarf again when she was outside dawdling from the main house one day.   
But she had not questioned about it again since she felt the apparently intruding inquiry would be unwelcomed.

“Khánh, won’t you come in for tea?” Elrond called from the open, sitting room.

“No. Thank you,” Khánh called back. “Lord Elrond, I am going for a bit of a walk. I will not be back until supper.”

It was one of those rare, cloudy days. Not quite heavy enough to rain and not light enough for Laurelin and sun.   
She had wandered far outside of Formenos by now.

Fog covered the trees and permeated the air; its mists sprinkled coolly on Khánh’s brown cheeks.  
It was not just the beauty that captivated Khánh in this Elven home. There was a sense of peace she found and even if she were no Elven beauty, she still felt like she was part of it all.

Bending down to retie her boot lace, she heard a disturbance in the distance, interrupting her whimsical reverie; the sound of a big dog howling and a horse running at a fast speed. First, it was a large white dog (or wolf?) that ran past her. Khánh scrambled to her feet to get out of the way for the rider to pass by.  
As she looked up, she could not determine clearly, but she caught the rider, whom appeared to be male, glance her way briefly.

Just as she was about to move on after her startle, Khánh heard a sliding crash and the pained yell of both the man and horse.  
It appeared that his big, black stallion had slipped on the leftover rain puddles after amounted exhaustion of a long travel.

The horse had been spooked by the fall and left to hide in the near forest.   
The man which she could now make out as an elf was stumbling to get up – his movements more rigid and stunted than the usual graceful elves she saw.

The big and alarming white wolf came over to the fallen man and made some strange, nasally sounds she could not understand. The greatness of the canine creature and its gleaming, snow fur marked it as no ordinary dog or wolf for that matter. It looked like a mythical beast from the Folklore scrolls she read about.

“Quiet, Huan,” The Elven man snapped and then muttered to himself. “Damn it.”

Resting his side against a life-sized boulder, he was able to help himself up on one leg.  
He wore a rain cloak and hood, but Khánh had a glimpse of pointed ears beneath the shadow of satin, black hair.

After some consideration, she rushed over to him.

“Are you injured, sir?”

After all, it was the polite thing to do to help strangers who had fallen off their horse right?  
It was not every day one encounters this sort of mishappening.

“Get away from me,” The man told her irritably without a glance. “Witch.”

_…What?_

“You have done enough damage,” He hopped away from her on one leg to where his horse was.

Pushing away her annoyance at his rudeness aside, Khánh continued. She wanted to be useful and was in the mood for being on equal footing with a man as well as an elf for once.

“I cannot think of leaving you until I see that you are fit to mount your horse, sir,” She spoke matter of fact.

The hint of impudence in her voice caught his attention then. The elf peered closer at her curiously but was still peeved. That was when she got to see his face which was scarred to heavens and ghostly fair in skin tone, but it was one of if not the most beautiful faces she had ever seen. It put the Tinúviel Nightingale to shame.   
The beautiful face was coupled with a pair of the most piercing grey eyes studying her, not missing a single speck or detail.

He shook the rain and mud off his cloak.

“You should be at home yourself, Firieth. Where do you live?”

“At Enedduin Castle,” Khánh answered automatically before she could stop herself.

His ink-black eyebrows rose and he looked at her all the more curious. Normally, Khánh was not always at ease with the Firstborn. She was not used to dealing with such refinement or severity on the regular for it had been her experience that charming and attractive people shunned and wanted nothing to do with her. In return, she spurned and avoided them back.

This man here was beyond beautiful than any elf. He would have sent Khánh running for the hills at first glance, but his miserly demeanor in addition to his effort to be entirely charmless amused Khánh. She was at ease with him.

“If you need help, I can fetch a servant from Enedduin,” Khánh continued. “It is not far from here. The dreary castle is just below this hill by the lake.”

“The servants! Dreary! You say you live at the Enedduin Castle. Do you mean the castle where you pass through Formenos into the Green woods?”

“Yes, sir.” So, he did know of this residence.

“Whose castle is it?” He lifted his leg. The elf move closer to her.

Khánh felt pleasingly smart enough to answer him.

Lord Fëanor’s of course.”

“And do you know of this Lord Fëanor?” The grey eyes that peered down on to hers glinted a little and she shuddered.

“No…I have not seen him.”

“So, he does not currently reside in the place then?”

“Not now, no.”

“Would you be able to tell me where he is?” He asked again.

“No, sir. I cannot,” Khánh tried not to sigh.

The dark elf examined her insolently again.

“You are not a servant at those halls, however. I can see that you are – “

He observed the shorn, dark-brown hair that was loose above her shoulders, the oriental face, the unkempt, woolen brown dress underneath a cotton, black cloak and muddied, ripped boots. The outfit was not exquisite enough to be a lady’s maid let alone someone of higher status.

“I am an herbal healer,” She informed. “Assistant healer.”

“Ah! The assistant healer – the Valar take me if I had forgotten. The healer!”

Once again, he did not make sense and Khánh was under the eccentric elf’s sharp scrutiny. Finally, he made a move to do something about his current predicament and let out a guttural hiss of pain.

“I am not particularly inclined to want charity from whatever or whomever is at Enedduin. But you may assist me if you would be so kind,” He relented with a grunt.

Khánh bobbed her head eagerly.

“Do you not have a staff that I could use as a stick?” He inquired.

“No, sir,” She shook her head. He sighed with a nod.

“Why don’t you go get my horse’s bridle and bring him to me then?”

Khánh hesitated. The black horse looked at her with a cautious, unfriendly gaze and its mass was so much bigger than hers’.

“You are not afraid, are you?” Came the deep, amused voice.

At gentle taunt, Khánh’s fire flared up. Taking a deep breath, she moved to the stallion. The horse instantly made an unhappy sound and backed away with a swish of its long tail.  
Using much effort and all her strength, she tried to seize the bridle with little success.

After a while, the man laughed from behind. She looked back at him in shock.

“I see. No mind then, Lady. The beast will never be brought to the fire so the fire must be aided to come to the beast. I must beg your help if you will come here, Lady.”

Khánh came and he laid a heavy, muscled arm over her shoulder.

“Excuse me. Necessity compels me to make you useful.”

The elf leaned on her with some struggle and they limped towards the horse until they were close enough for him to get a hold of his ride.  
Once the elf snatched the bridle, he expertly straddled the beast until he sat, secured on the leather saddle. Khánh could not help noticing his hands were shaking terribly even though it was one of his legs that had taken injury.

“Now then,” He pulled his cloak’s hood over his head.

“Make haste and return back to Enedduin Castle before the residents there worry over you. It may be Arda Remade here, but who knows what danger lurks beyond these dark woods.”

He smiled a little wryly before tipping his head at her.

“Until then, Lady Khánh.”

And before she could gather her wits, elf, horse and wolf had already disappeared into the mists.

Khánh was dissatisfied. The most interesting person she had met so far was already gone. At that moment, something as trivial as him allowing her to help him as an equal had been one of the most liberating feelings she had ever experienced. For how far he was better than her in every conceivable way, he had not sneered down at her or if he did, did not outrightly show it.

She lingered at the same spot where she conversed with the dark elf and his vivid grey eyes that shone like Silmarils.

If she returned back to Enedduin, it would still be an enthralling place for her, but she found Lord Elrond and even the eldest sons of Fëanor rather lackluster. The El twins could only provide so much amusement before they had to ride back to Imladris for their business and work. Celegorm and the rest had vanished and wanted nothing to do with someone like her. Maedhros and Maglor would be their usual vacant but kind selves towards her.  
She’d spend her days in her office, preparing potions and medicine for a mythical elf that would probably never show up.  
And then before she knew it, Khánh had to find a new situation for herself.

But that was when she stopped and remembered something amiss. She had never told that stranger elf her name.

And he had called her Lady Khánh.

oOo

_Author’s Notes: Thank you so much to guest and Lady Silverfrost for reviewing on Fanfiction. Thank you to the two guests and OctaviaMadness for reviewing on AO3. You all are gems._

_Names and Vocabulary_

_Makalaurë – Maglor_

_Maitimo – Maedhros_

_Firstborn/Eldar - Elves_

_Edain/Secondborn – Humans_

_Peredhil – Half-Elven_

_Atar – Father_

_Firieth – Mortal Woman_

_Tinúviel – Lúthien_


	6. Chapter 5

** Chapter 5 **

_Author’s Notes: Guys, it’s Khánh. Not Khaan or Kann or Khann. The Vietnamese translation for the name means ‘precious stone.’_

oOo

By the time Khánh returned back to Enedduin castle, it was storming heavily. She was completely soaked when one of the servants opened the door for her.

Khánh feared Elrond would be upset with her muddied state of dishevelment. Sneaking off to her washroom, she was stopped by Elrond himself.  
Thankfully, Elrond for once did not notice. He looked to be distracted in an almost frenzied haste.

“Lady Khánh! There you are,” He sounded uncharacteristically impatient.  
“Well? What do you think?”

“My Lord?”

“The flowers,” Elrond pointed to the new vases of lilacs and daffodils she finally saw.

“Lord Fëanor has returned and we are trying to set ourselves and the castle to rights.”

Dazed, Khánh quickly followed as Elrond paced around inspecting everything and barking out orders to every maid and servant that rushed by.

“Lord Fëanor has returned?” Khánh asked again, bottling down her excitement and dread.  
She was finally meeting the mad Elf that created the legendary Silmarils – the jewels that helped revive the Two Trees which lighted up their beloved Arda right now.

“Yes, yes. That was what I said,” Elrond replied testily. The Lord of Imladris looked back at her sharply.  
“Lady, why are you soaked to the bones? We do not have time for a bath, but you will have to change your dress to something more fine and appropriate at least before you can meet the Master.”

It was the first time Elrond had ever remarked on her appearance. Looking around, Khánh saw even Maedhros and Maglor dressed in clothes more formal than what they normally wore. Maglor’s long, black hair was braided away from his face and Maedhros’ was clubbed back neatly.  
They, too, looked occupied in their preparations for Fëanor’s arrival.

“Lady Khánh? Why are you so wet and covered in mud?” Maedhros asked, worriedly. Khánh blushed.

“Um…”

“Nemiriel here will help you find something a bit more suitable,” Elrond introduced one of the Elven maids whom tsked disapprovingly at Khánh.

“Come on, my lady,” She took Khánh’s hand, pulling her into the bed chamber. “We cannot have you meet the master looking like a kicked, wet dog.”

Khánh winced and gave the maid a sheepish look.

Nemiriel went through Khánh’s closet looking practically horrified. Khánh had packed all that she owned which meant other than her black cloak and brown dress, there was only one other shabby, grey gown inside the wardrobe. It was not an improvement at all seeing as how that one had patches and overfilled with lint.

“Are these dresses all that you own, Lady Khánh?” Nemiriel looked back at her dubiously.

“Unfortunately, yes. My old school discouraged materialism and vanity other than basic needs.”

“Well,” Nemiriel closed the closet doors. “We will have to send you some new and finer gowns. You are in Elven home now and it is not good habit to live like a commoner here.”

Before Khánh could protest, someone knocked on the door and opened it. Maglor poked his large head inside, looking tired and apologetic.

“Ladies? I apologize, but there has been a change of plans. Lord Fëanor, my Atar, won’t be seeing anyone tonight. He just wants a private meal, go back to work, and then retire for the night. Carry on as you were, Lady Khánh. Nemiriel.”

He then left.

“That man-!” Nemiriel grouched out. “How like the titular Fëanorian to change things at the last minute.”

The unhappy female Elf zoomed out the room.

“We are going to take your measurements and order you some new clothes,” She warned Khánh before leaving down the stairs.

That woman was quite formidable, Khánh had to marvel.

Relieved, Khánh found time to give herself a bath; taking advantage of all the fragrant oils and soap bars to scrub her skin clean and wash her hair.

Damning herself for forgetting to take out a fresh, clean nightgown, she wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out of the bath.  
Out of the washroom, she saw something that almost made her slip on her buttocks.

It was the large, white wolf that had traveled with the mysterious, Elven stranger she encountered in the forest outside of Formenos.

The wolf looked just as shocked to see Khánh for he froze in the midst of sniffing around her wooden floors. All sorts of questions and conclusions jumbled inside Khánh’s head then, and she forced her slack jaw to snap shut.

The wolf hound, despite having no humanoid features whatsoever, had the most expressive black eyes Khánh had ever seen. It gave hints to what he must be thinking.   
In this case, he looked extremely embarrassed and dismayed.   
His furry, white head bowed apologetically to Khánh and then ran out of the room.

“No…It couldn’t be!” Khánh exclaimed.

oOo

The next day, the morning and afternoon went by deceptively similar like any other day that Khánh spent at Enedduin.   
She went about her usual duties, but if she really paid attention, the whole environment and general mood of everyone had changed; not just in Enedduin but Formenos as well according to Elrond.

The entire castle was much more polished and poshed than before, but peculiarly, with less servants than before with the exception of Nemiriel and Callas, the cook.

Elrond was calmer, but still a little on edge. Maedhros and Maglor went about their usual activities and laughing at each other’s inside jokes such as normal.

Later that evening, Nemiriel pulled Khánh back into her room again.

“The master has asked to see you, Lady Khánh,” She spoke primly.  
“You must change. I brought a new gown for you to use temporarily before we have your new wardrobe ordered.”

“Are my own dresses that bad?” Khánh felt a bit defensive of her own humble belongings. They might not be pretty or anything of value, but they were still hers, and they clothed and kept her warm just fine.

Nemiriel gave Khánh a look without needing to say anything.

“Here,” She placed the folded gown in Khánh’s arms.

oOo

“Wear this. Quickly now, my lady. Lord Fëanor is not a patient man.”

The dress had a lower neckline than what she was normally accustomed to. It was a nice shade of olive green and to Khánh’s relief, it was modest but much lovelier than the two dresses she owned.

Meanwhile, Nemiriel battled her hair that was slowly growing out from the neck into plaits pulled back and eventually won.  
Truly a formidable woman indeed.

Maedhros was the one to lead Khánh to the master of Enedduin that night after supper. To her amazement, she was brought to the office she snuck off to explore last evening.

Knocking on the door and opening it, Maedhros spoke:

“Atar, I bring you Lady Khánh.”

Khánh peered inside. It was dark saved for the roaring fireplace that lit the room warmly.

The master’s chair was faced towards the fireplace so that the participant sitting on it was half obscured. There sat the white wolf. He perk his head up as Khánh came in. 

“Let the Lady Khánh be seated,” A familiar, male voice spoke. A long leg kicked the smaller wooden chair out for Khánh to do as was demanded.

Swallowing dryly, Khánh moved to sit on the chair.  
In another spot on the floor sat Celegorm. He was toying around with a broken arrow and looked to be stitching it back right.

“Ah, Lady Khánh. I see you are here to greet, Atar,” He gave her a little smirk. “Atar, did you bring home a welcoming present for your newly received mortal assistant?”

“A present for Lady Khánh?” Fëanor asked skeptically. “She has only been here, what? A week or so? She requires a gift, already does she?”

“Excuse me, my lord?” Khánh quickly replied startled and put off.

“Does the healer expect a present from my travels even though I hardly know her?” Fëanor spoke louder and crisply.

Khánh glared at her feet.

“No, my lord. Of course not.”

“What are you doing inspecting the floors over there? You find my choice of tiles interesting I see. Scoot your chair closer so that I can see you better.”

“Would you like me to straighten my posture and square my shoulders while I am at it?” Khánh asked mildly.

Celegorm suddenly found whatever was behind him rather fascinating.

Fëanor’s mouth quirked up: “No, that won’t be necessary, but you would be surprised at the wonders that does for mortal back pain I sometimes hear about.”

Without his rain cloak, the mysterious Elven stranger from yesterday did not look so cryptic. He wore his hair long that fell to his waist. It was carelessly tied back with a leather strap and even though he was a Noldorin Prince – King once, his clothes were very casual and so commoner looking. At least they had that in common.   
The injury of his fall was apparent for there was a crutch for his use on the side.

But his eyes. She would always remember those silver eyes that shone with a red fire – gazing at her intently like they were now.

“Are you fond of presents, Lady Khánh?”

It appeared he was very fond of this topic. 

“I frankly do not know, sir. I have heard they are generally thought pleasant things,” She finally replied. Fëanor rolled his eyes at her lackadaisical answer.

“Yes, _generally_ thought, but what do _you_ think?” He pressed.

Khánh contemplated the question. Se grew up in a life with nothing and was given nothing without her working her bloody tears off for it.  
Why should she have to let this spoiled Noldorin man interrogate her in this manner?

“I have never received a gift in my life therefore have had little experience with them, my lord.”

“Drop the ‘my lord,’ if you will. Just Fëanor should do it; Or sir if you want,” He waved a hand.

Khánh looked at him oddly.

“Yes, my lor- Fëanor then, sir.”

“So…You have never had a present? That is absurd,” He shook his head incredulously. He gestured to Celegorm.

“This coddled, third son of mine had been indulged and spoiled rotten since his begetting day in his mother’s womb.”

“Atar…” Celegorm flushed and glared at his father who ignored him.

“Our resident Vala, Oromë, even gave him this beast here,” He signaled to the white wolf laying on the ground. “Huan. But my son was kind enough to lend the beast to guide me around in case something unfortunate happens.”

Huan’s ears twitched and Celegorm stayed red. He shared a look with his father before storming out of the room. Khánh watched the scene feeling more uncomfortable by the moment.

A second later, Celegorm came running back with a huge grin on his face. Two more big, brown hounds trailing behind him barking enthusiastically.

“Two?! Really, Atar? Thank you – thank you,” He actually smooched his father on the cheek hard.

Fëanor looked smug but shoved his son away.

“Quiet while I talk to Lady Khánh. Get gone, will you?”

Celegorm did as Fëanor bid and left for good this time.

“So, where did you work before coming to Enedduin, Lady Khánh?” His attention returned to her.

“Woodcreek School, my lor-sir.”

“Woodcreek School? Even to my Firstborn ignorance, I have heard only the hardiest could survive that hellhole,” He snorted, pouring himself a goblet of wine from the cask left on a tray for him.  
“How long were you there?”

“All my life until only a few weeks ago, sir,” Khánh was chagrined that she had not much of a life compared to this worldly being.

“All your life?” His greys widened. “In Arda Before and After?”

She nodded.

“Well, Eru be damned,” He sighed and demanded. “Have you no aspirations for your life? Did the Valar find amusement in giving me an indolent healer?”

“It is not like that,” She argued and tried to simmer down her indignance.

“Forget it,“ He interrupted. “That is a malady we will just have to change soon. Back to Woodcreek, I am appalled you survived. Even by Edain standards, you are very small. Did they not feed you?”

“Hardly,” She answered after a pause. “My lord.”

“And after all this time, why are you here with me deeper in Formenos and not there?”

“Well, I made known of my availability for hire, my lord.”

He laughed at that and took a sip of his wine.

“Right. Of course, you did.” He looked away from her and stared into the fire.  
“And what of your family?”

Khánh pursed her lips. He would go there, but she would not let his probing and fire touch her.

“I have none. I have no attachments to any that existed in Arda Marred or Arda After.”

Fëanor froze, absorbing the distinct heaviness of her words. His eyes settled and then went back to her slight form.

“Normally, I would have scolded,” His deep voice softened. “But when it comes to matters of family and blood kin, I have no right to lay judgment on anyone.”

And Khánh knew what he was referring to almost immediately.

“You are fortunate, Lady Khánh, if you do not have anyone to ardently love,” He shifted closer to her in his seat to the point that she could feel his hot breath. Swallowing, she stared at him head on.

“If you do not love anyone,” Fëanor spoke. “Then you will never be angry…Or disappointed.”

Khánh did not want to, but as she processed his sudden, anguished declaration, she felt a sort of pity for the master of Enedduin she once thought ludicrous.

“Yes, sir,” She nodded. And she agreed with his statement. One just had to look at fools like Andreth or Túrin Turambar to never wish their trials and fate on themselves.

Fëanor stood up and went to his worktable to look over some files. She recognized her records and references from Creekwood.

“So, Lady Khánh,” His abrupt, booming voice made her jump in her seat. “Did the school teach you and the students instruments such as the harp? It is one of the most basic instruments to learn out there.”

_Yes, but it is not a basic instrument for the Edain to learn!_

“I only play a little, my lord,” Khánh did not tell him it was because his musically-gifted son taught her a few scales and chords for the past few days she stayed at Enedduin.

“People always say that as false modesty,” He brushed off. “I don’t believe in it.”

He shuffled around underneath his desk and pulled out a small, oak harp. “Ah, here is one left by Maglor when he was just an elfling.”

He hobbled over with his crutch and handed the precious keepsake instrument to her.

“Go on now. Play.”

Left with not much choice, Khánh started playing the general C and B scales from memory of Maglor’s patient teachings.   
When she was about to play one of those basic, four-note melodies with her stiff fingers, Fëanor blatantly rolled his eyes.

He suffered through it, however, and continued to look through her files and herbal notes.   
His grip and movements were very weak and rigid. She caught him almost dropping his wine a few times.  
How did such a person become the most skilled and mightiest in both Ardas?

He interrupted through her reverie again.

“Enough,” He paused, but then looked to forego any kind of honeyed words altogether.   
“You were right. You do play a little.”

Khánh inwardly snorted and handed the harp back to him.

Fëanor held up her herb recipes that she’s created for years.

“Do these belong to you?”

She went over to his table but did not dare to come too close in case it was disrespectful.

“Yes, my lord.”

His ink brows frowned and he analyzed her piles of work.

“And you have researched and tested these all on your own?”

_Was he suspicious or doubting her credibility?_

Khánh steeled her nerves.

“Yes, Fëanor sir,” Her voice quivered a little.

“Hmm…” Then he asked her a strange question that caught her off guard. “Were you happy when you created these?”

Once again, she had to think hard on the answer.

“I – Well I did not think of whether I was happy or not. I was kept busy and that was all there was.”

Fëanor looked dissatisfied with Khánh’s answer.

“So, you don’t even know if you love your work or not.”

“I did not say that. It is just that whether or not I love my work is not the priority. I am content,” She said. “Is that not enough?”

He intruded close into her personal space; his crutch by her foot and her own breathing hitched.

“It is never enough,” He spoke intensely – his eyes boring down on hers. “You have to love your work more than anything in this world or why do it at all?”

Khánh swallowed.

“Even if it ends up consuming you in the process that it destroys your family and you as well?”

They were caught in a stalemate. Fëanor blinked at her in wonder and Khánh wished she had held her blasted tongue. She would surely be let go for her audacious behavior now.

To Khánh’s astonishment, the master of Enedduin did not grow furious with her. He only gave a pondering hum and went back to examine the next page in her herbs book.

A second later, he tossed her book across the table waking the sleeping Huan up.

“My hands and fingers burn like Melkor’s anus,” He cursed foully. He glanced at her sharply.

“That will be all, Lady Khánh. Why are you still up? Go to bed.”

Khánh quickly stood up. With a bow, she darted out of the room.

oOo

_Vocabulary and Translations_

_Atar – Father_

_Edain - Humans_


End file.
